The Quiet After the Storm

The silence in the small storage room felt heavier than the noise that had preceded it. Ethan sat on the bench, still feeling the tremors running through his body, his heart gradually slowing to a more steady rhythm. His mind, though quieter now, still felt fragile—like a glass just barely mended, one wrong move away from shattering again.

Gabriel sat beside him, close enough for Ethan to feel his presence but not so close as to overwhelm him. The warmth of Gabriel's body next to his was comforting, a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone. But the silence between them now felt thick, filled with unspoken questions and emotions neither of them seemed ready to confront.

Ethan swallowed hard, the taste of adrenaline still lingering on his tongue. He didn't know what to say. The panic attack had taken him off guard, dragged him back into a place he'd been trying so hard to escape. And Gabriel… Gabriel had been there, pulling him out of the darkness in a way no one else had before. The kiss had been a shock, a moment of clarity in the midst of chaos, but now that the storm had passed, Ethan didn't know how to address it.

Gabriel shifted beside him, breaking the silence first.

"You feeling any better?"

Ethan nodded slowly, though the exhaustion that followed the attack weighed heavily on him.

"Yeah. I'm… okay now. Thanks for… for that."

Gabriel smiled faintly, though there was still concern in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to freak you out back there. I just—" He paused, running a hand through his hair, clearly searching for the right words. "I wasn't sure what else to do."

Ethan shook his head, feeling a strange sense of gratitude that he couldn't quite put into words.

"No, it's… it's fine. You helped."

They fell into silence again, the air between them filled with a quiet tension. Ethan kept his gaze on the floor, unsure of how to navigate this moment.

After a few moments, Gabriel spoke again, his voice softer this time.

"Do you want to talk about it? What happened, I mean."

Ethan hesitated, his hands tightening into fists on his lap. He wasn't used to talking about it. The PTSD, the flashbacks, the war—it was all part of a life he'd been trying to forget. But Gabriel had seen it now. He had witnessed the vulnerability Ethan tried so hard to hide. And for some reason, that made it feel a little less like a burden.

"I—" Ethan started, then stopped, his throat tightening. He wasn't sure where to begin. "It's… it's not easy to explain."

Gabriel nodded, his expression open and patient.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Ethan took a deep breath, his chest still tight from the remnants of the attack.

"It's… PTSD," Ethan said finally, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. "It happens sometimes. When something reminds me of… things from the war. I get these flashbacks. It's like I'm there again. It's not just memories—it's like I'm right back in the middle of it. I can't breathe, I can't think. It feels… real."

Gabriel stayed quiet, his expression softening as Ethan spoke. He didn't interrupt, didn't press for more. He just listened, giving Ethan the space to continue if he wanted to.

Ethan exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his chest loosen slightly.

"The crash… the noise. It just… set me off. I wasn't expecting it, and then… everything just came rushing back."

Gabriel nodded, his gaze understanding.

"I've heard about PTSD before. I didn't realize… I mean, I'm sorry you have to go through that."

Ethan shrugged, though his shoulders felt heavy.

"It's just something I deal with. Some days are better than others."

Gabriel's eyes softened even further, his voice quiet when he spoke again.

"And today wasn't one of the good days."

Ethan let out a bitter laugh, though there was no real humor in it.

"Yeah. You could say that."

They sat in silence again for a few moments. Ethan felt raw, exposed in a way he hadn't expected. He wasn't used to letting people in like this, but Gabriel's presence—his quiet, patient understanding—made it feel a little less terrifying.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Gabriel said gently. "But… if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

Ethan nodded, feeling a small flicker of something warm in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was—maybe gratitude, maybe relief—but it felt good to know that someone cared. That someone wasn't running away from him, even after seeing the mess he was.

They sat together for a while longer, the quiet between them no longer as suffocating as it had been. Gabriel shifted on the bench, glancing at Ethan from the corner of his eye.

"So," Gabriel said, a playful note creeping into his voice. "I guess this means I'm not your typical art gallery tour guide."

Ethan managed a small smile, his body still heavy with exhaustion but his mind feeling lighter.

"Yeah, you're definitely… different."

Gabriel chuckled softly, his usual brightness returning.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Ethan found himself smiling again, the tension in his chest easing just a little more. He wasn't sure how Gabriel had managed to pull him out of that dark place, but he was grateful for it—more than he could say.

"So," Gabriel said, leaning back against the wall, "what do you think of the exhibition so far? You've been kind of quiet."

Ethan shrugged, his eyes wandering back to the memory of the paintings they had seen.

"It's good. Different than what I expected."

"Different how?"

"I don't know," Ethan said, frowning slightly as he thought. "I guess I expected something… louder. Brighter. But some of the paintings… they felt real. Like there was something underneath all the colors."

Gabriel's eyes flickered with interest, and he leaned forward slightly. "That's what I love about art. Everyone sees something different. It's like the artist puts a piece of themselves into it, and if you look close enough, you can see it. You can feel what they were feeling."

Ethan nodded, his mind drifting back to the painting they had discussed earlier—the one that had felt so sad to him, even though it was supposed to be vibrant. It was strange how much of himself he had seen in that painting, how much of his own struggles he had recognized in the brushstrokes.

"I guess that's what makes it… powerful," Ethan said quietly.

Gabriel smiled softly, nodding in agreement.

"Exactly."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the tension of the earlier panic attack slowly fading into the background. Gabriel stayed close but didn't push Ethan to talk any more than he was comfortable with. He simply sat there, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of the storm that still lingered on the edges of Ethan's mind.

Eventually, Gabriel broke the silence again.

"Do you want to head out? I mean, if you're done with the exhibition."

Ethan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He wasn't sure if he was ready to go back out into the world just yet, but the idea of sitting in the quiet gallery any longer felt heavy.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I think I'm done for tonight."

Gabriel stood, offering his hand to Ethan. Ethan looked at it for a moment, then reached out and took it, feeling the warmth of Gabriel's grip as he pulled him to his feet. The gesture was simple, but it grounded him—reminded him that he wasn't as lost as he had felt earlier.

As they walked back through the gallery, the world outside seemed a little less overwhelming. Gabriel stayed close to his side, guiding him through the room without making a fuss, without drawing any unnecessary attention to Ethan's vulnerability.